Brand New Night

by Nathan Spain

  “And you chose your principles, which is why you are unfit to lead your people. There’s no such thing as an impossible choice, Selene, only outcomes you survive and outcomes you do not. Perhaps, by the time they reach the end of the path you have set them on, what survives of the Winebloods will realize that.”

  Damian raised his head at last. A question burned amidst the fog of hopelessness. He needed an answer, no matter how cruel it might be.

  “Why am I still alive?” His voice was flat, reflecting the numbness in his brain. “Why didn’t you let me die with – with my…” He trailed off, unable to force out the words.

  “Simple,” Thanatos explained. “I suspected that incentivizing the good behavior of Selene here would require a personal touch, and you…well, she seems fond of you for some reason. Put simply, you and the matter of your safety is what’s preventing her from suicidally going for my throat right now.”

  Damian glanced at Selene and saw a rage in her eyes the likes of which he had never beheld before, and he knew that Thanatos spoke the truth. The realization spurred conflicting emotions in him: gratitude for the depth of Selene’s friendship, and guilt that it was now being used against her.

  In lieu of tearing his throat out, Selene growled at Thanatos, “You’re a murderous tyrant, and you’ll die a tyrant’s death. Maybe not today, but in the due course of time.”

  Thanatos stood and waved his guards over. “If we’ve reached the empty threats stage of the conversation, I’ll take my leave. This audience is ended. I’ll let the two of you have some time alone. Perhaps you can use it as a chance to reflect on your mistakes.”

  The guards seized them once more and hauled them up from the couch. As they were escorted back to their prison, Damian caught Selene’s eye. In that brief glance, they communicated all the emotions they were feeling: their mutual fury at Thanatos, and their grief for their fallen friends.

  A tear slipped down Damian’s cheek. He scarcely noticed it. His nostrils still held the faint scent of charred flesh, and his mind was filled with smoke.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  As soon as the sun hid its face behind the horizon, Draven, Ariadne and Rosanna left the barn and winged their way north toward Wineblood Manor in Washington.

  Reinvigorated by the day’s rest, and by the blood, they flew far and fast. Draven led the way, though he got the sense that Rosanna, used to a leadership position, only deferred to him because he knew the territory better. He thought he understood how she might be feeling, separated from both the lands she was familiar with and the people she knew, her circumstances thrown into an uncertain state in which her social status was of no help to her. It reminded him of the situation he had been in at the beginning of his exile.

  Of course, he hadn’t been fleeing for his life at the time.

  While they had seen no actual signs of pursuit, they dared not slow down. Even though the coast seemed clear, Draven couldn’t shake off the unease that hung over him. He had no way of knowing just how much of a head start they had on Thanatos and Brone's agents, but he knew their enemies would likely anticipate their flight to the Manor. Everything depended on reaching the Winebloods first and forewarning them. It was a risky plan, but they had no better one.

  And so, with nothing to do but to hope and to hurry, Draven decided to keep his focus on the tasks at hand: hunting for food, staying vigilant, and heading north as fast as possible.

  They had covered hundreds of miles in just two nights when Mount Rainier finally came into view on the horizon. Wineblood Manor was hidden in the forest north of the mountain, buried deep among the trees. Knowing they were close to their destination gave Draven a renewed sense of urgency, and he spurred them quickly onward.

  But as the mountain and the Manor drew closer, so too did Draven’s misgivings grow. Even if they arrived in time, he had to wonder what kind of reception awaited them at the seat of Wineblood power. They made for a strange band of messengers: an exile, his former flame, and the leader of the Stormfangs. If they just showed up and announced that Thanatos and Brone had disrupted the summit and taken Lady Selene hostage, would they really be believed?

  They passed the peak of Mount Rainier and soared down toward the trees beyond. Even after so much time away from these parts, Draven still knew the way. Some things didn’t change, no matter how much the world around them did.

  Together they flew low over the treetops, until Draven swooped down into the forest, Ariadne and Rosanna following close behind him. They alighted on the forest floor amidst the trees and stood looking at each other in the slowly-waning shadows of the early morning.

  “We’ll go on foot from here,” Draven announced. “It’s not far,” he added for Rosanna’s benefit.

  “Keep an eye out,” Rosanna said. “I know this is your territory, but we can’t assume we’re safe just yet. The Blackwings and Nightcloaks could have gotten here first.”

  The three of them exchanged terse nods, and without further hesitation they set off through the trees.

  Ariadne approached Draven, walking alongside him. “Have you thought about what we’re going to say?”

  “To be honest, I’m not too sure what we’re walking into here. Has the clan changed much since my day?”

  Ariadne considered the question for a moment. “For the most part it probably hasn’t. But I don’t know how they’ll react to your return. I don’t think they know that Selene decided to pardon you at the summit. Remember, we didn’t even know where you were or if you would come.”

  “Hmm…Callidora should be happy to see me, at least. And more importantly, she’s certain to be loyal to Selene – they are sisters, after all. But Gregario is another matter. I’ve never trusted him, and he knows it. Back when I held a seat on the court, we often disagreed.”

  Ariadne snorted softly. “I can picture that. Gregario doesn’t exactly…endear himself to people, shall we say? Frankly, I’m not entirely sure why Selene keeps him around.”

  “Ties of duty run deep,” said Draven. “You may have noticed there’s not much turnover where vampiric positions of power are concerned. Court appointments are generally held indefinitely, except in rare cases…”

  He trailed off, but Ariadne picked up the thread. “Rare cases such as banishment, you mean?”

  “Exactly. And I suspect Gregario played a part in that – in forcing Selene’s hand, that is. She hinted as much to me back in the lodge, though she didn’t name names. Said that there were some in the court who wished to see me given a harsher sentence.”

  “That does sound like Gregario’s handiwork. What exactly is his beef with you based on?”

  “There were times when he questioned Selene’s judgement, while I stood by her. It’s all ancient history now, but I guess we’ll soon find out whether he still holds any grudges.”

  “I guess we will.” Ariadne fell silent for a moment before adding, her voice quiet and shaky, “I wish my dad was here. He’d know how to handle this. He’s spent more time among the court than I have. I came here often to visit him, but I spent most of my time away from the clan. He’s the one who’s earned their trust, not me.”

  “Why didn’t you stay and live with him at the Manor?” Draven asked gently. He wasn’t sure if she would want to talk about the years she spent without him, but his curiosity was too strong to ignore.

  “I did, for the first couple years,” Ariadne told him. “There was a lot they needed to teach me. But once I’d had time to get a handle on my…new state of being, I decided to make my own way. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with the Manor – Selene was kind, and my father was there. But living there as a Wineblood was a life I’d stumbled into, not one I’d chosen. And I had a whole world available to me, at least as far as the borders of Wineblood territory. So I set off to see what was out there for me.”

  “All by yourself?” Draven frowned. He had a hard time imagining Ariadne living as a nomadic scavenger, like he had done during his exile.

&n
bsp; She studied his expression for a moment, as if searching for the right way to frame her explanation. “Do you remember what it’s like? Being newly-turned?”

  He thought about it for a second before saying, “Dimly. It was a long time ago in my case. But I remember it was both freeing and terrifying.”

  Ariadne gave a little nod. “Exactly. I felt like I could go anywhere, do anything, but at the same time I didn’t know who I was anymore. Selene, my father, the court…their intentions were good, but they all had ideas of who I was or could be. I needed to rediscover myself, and I knew I could only do that on my own.”

  “And what did you discover?” Draven ventured to ask.

  She smiled ever-so-slightly. “That’s a long story. Perhaps one day I’ll tell it, but right now I think we have more important concerns. We’re nearly there.”

  They pushed their way through the trees and into a clearing, and there it was, lurking like a vast shadow among the trees: a sprawling, three-story wooden mansion, even larger than the lodge at Crater Lake. Between the arching, triangular roofs of its centerpiece and the long, horizontal annexes on either side, it resembled a bat with outstretched wings. Buried as it was amidst the forest, it was almost impossible to detect the ancient building’s presence until one was right on top of it. Even before the Devastation, few humans had ever discovered the Manor, and those that had were not permitted to leave; it was from those unlucky humans that the Winebloods farmed their blood supplies.

  The night was just ending as they approached the Manor; its residents were likely about to go to sleep for the day. But rest was a luxury none of them could afford at present. They would give the court something worth staying up for.

  They cautiously approached the front doors, feeling eyes on them. Even at this hour, they wouldn’t be able to simply waltz up to the Manor undetected.

  Sure enough, as they approached, a bat swooped down from somewhere nearby and took human form, barring their way to the front doors.

  “Halt,” the guard commanded. “You stand before the ancestral house of Clan Wineblood. State your identities and purpose here.”

  The guard looked young in appearance and anxious in demeanor. A recent addition to the clan, Draven surmised – clan members with seniority wouldn’t be assigned guard duty.

  He stepped forward and gave the guard a polite bow. “My name is Draven, late of Clan Wineblood and returned after a long absence. With me is Ariadne, also of this noble clan, and our companion, Lady Rosanna, ruler of Clan Stormfang.”

  The guard hesitated at this last part; his eyes flicked over to Rosanna and an expression of nervous surprise momentarily overtook his face.

  “We come from the summit of the four clans at Crater Lake,” Draven continued, “bearing urgent news for the court.”

  “This is…most unusual,” the guard said. “I must ask you to wait here while I inform the court of your presence. We were not expecting such guests.”

  “Of course,” Draven said amiably, and the guardsman gave him a stiff bow and entered the Manor, shutting the door behind him.

  Rosanna tapped her foot anxiously, looking like a bundle of impatient energy. After they had waited for a few minutes, she muttered, “Draven, time is of the essence here.”

  “Patience, my Lady. I know you’re not accustomed to being kept waiting, but this situation will require a deft touch.”

  Rosanna’s expression was sour, but she held her tongue.

  The door creaked open, and the guard reappeared. “Sir Gregario and Madam Callidora will see you now,” he announced. “Please follow me.”

  “Thank you,” Draven said with a bow, and led the group as they followed the Wineblood guard inside.

  They were marched through the entrance foyer, a large room dimly lit by candles, with twin staircases on either side that curved around and up to the balcony of the second story. The foyer was empty in the sleepy quiet of the morning, and they strode directly to an ornately-carved wooden door on the far side of the room. The guard swung it open and ushered them inside.

  They stood in the mouth of a wide, high-ceilinged hall. A row of guards was posted along either wall, at least a dozen in total. A carpet of deep, rich red led from the door to a raised dais at the end of the room. On the dais stood a large, ornate throne: Selene’s, and currently empty. Beside the throne, a male and a female vampire dressed in stately velvet attire sat at the left and right-hand seats of Wineblood power – Gregario and Callidora.

  The three vampires approached, and Draven bowed reverently. “Sir Gregario, Madam Callidora…it’s been too long.”

  “Draven,” Callidora greeted him. Younger in appearance than Selene, her features were fair and deceptively delicate. Her hair was long and darker than her sister’s, and her eyes darker still, but Draven saw warmth in them as she regarded him. “We certainly weren’t expecting to see you today, of all people.”

  “Or ever again,” Gregario cut in. The clan’s Military Commander and chief strategist, he was a heavy-set, bald-headed man with beady eyes. He held himself with a regal bearing, but Draven knew what kind of man he was, behind the layers of pompous self-importance. Men such as Gregario liked very few people and trusted fewer still, and Draven saw both dislike and distrust on his face in that moment.

  “Perhaps you have forgotten that you were exiled from this clan and these lands,” Gregario scowled. “Your presence here is in violation of the Lady’s justice.”

  “Actually, it’s not,” Ariadne said sharply, stepping forward. Draven held out a hand to try and halt her, but she ignored him. “Selene gave Draven a full pardon when she invited him to the summit.”

  Gregario turned his gaze to Ariadne, as if noticing her for the first time. His eyes narrowed, while the distrust in them widened its focus. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t take you at your word. Do you bring proof of this from the Lady herself? I’m sure she can explain Draven’s presence – and why you’ve brought the leader of a rival clan here unannounced.”

  Rosanna stepped forward at this. “Last time I checked, the Stormfangs were on friendly terms with the Winebloods, not your rivals – though it’s getting rather hard to keep track these days.”

  Gregario bristled, but Draven quickly interjected. “The explanations for our presence and for Selene’s absence are one and the same. And if I may be permitted to interrupt, the news we bear is of the utmost urgency.”

  “Very well,” Callidora said. “Let’s hear what you have to tell us.” As Gregario opened his mouth to speak, she added, “Come now, Gregario, don’t be rash. We don’t know the nature of the situation yet.”

  Gregario leaned back in his chair and stared at them with suspicion in his beady eyes. “Out with it, then.”

  “Thank you,” Draven said. “I respect your time, and we have precious little of it, so I won’t mince words. The summit has failed. We have been betrayed by the lords Thanatos and Brone. They broke the summit’s truce and turned weapons on the unarmed Wineblood and Stormfang delegations. Myself and my two companions here managed to escape the slaughter, but I’m sorry to report that Lady Selene was taken prisoner.”

  Callidora’s mouth opened in shock, but Gregario just said pointedly, “Is that so? A serious allegation. But how brave of you to escape unscathed, and how convenient that the Lady is not here to verify your story.”

  “Gregario,” Callidora admonished, “Draven served by our side on this very court for decades. And now he risks his life to bring us this news, and you meet him with suspicion?”

  “Many more decades have passed since those decades,” Gregario said with a growl. “I do not see a Wineblood standing here. I see a disgraced exile, who has apparently thrown in his lot with a Stormfang and is now at our doorstep spreading alarming, destabilizing accusations. We cannot take action merely on such a source’s unverified claims.”

  “Are you deaf, Gregario?” Ariadne said hotly. “We’re facing a crisis here. Clan Wineblood itself is in danger.”

  Gr
egario fixed her with a look of scrutiny. “I remember you. You’re a troublemaker. It was because of you that Draven here lost his place among us. It seems you’ve found your way back to his side yet again. Tell me, why shouldn’t we doubt the word of an exile’s impertinent little lover? You’d probably parrot whatever tune he fed you.”

  Ariadne’s jaw worked furiously. “I’m not –” she began, her fists coiled in anger. “I speak for myself, no one else.”

  “If this news is true, then we face a grave threat,” Callidora said. “But I’m not certain I understand. Why would Thanatos and Brone declare war on the other two clans? Do they seek our territory? Our resources?”

  Draven shook his head. “Their goal is more sinister than that. The war they desire is with the human race. They seek to subjugate the remaining populations of humanity, and they would see us all dragged into their mad crusade, whether we agree with them or not.”

  Callidora’s expression darkened. “I see. And you say they now hold Selene prisoner?”

  “They mean to use her as a hostage, to exert leverage over our clan.”

  Rosanna spoke up. “They would have done the same with me if Draven and Ariadne had not aided me in my escape. They fought with honor and fled only when necessary. Together we have flown as fast as possible to bring you this news.”

  Gregario frowned at them. “And how exactly are you hoping we’ll respond to this situation? Assuming your story is true.”

  Ariadne raised her voice, her fists clenched. “We must fight back. We can’t stand by and let them get away with this!”

  Gregario’s frown deepened into a scowl. “You would have us risk our lives in the defense of humans?”

  Draven had been expecting that retort. Gregario had never shared the same sympathy for humanity that Selene had. It was one of the ideological differences he and Draven had once butted heads over.

  Now Draven steeled himself and prepared to rebuke Gregario once again. “With all due respect, there are more than just human lives at stake here. Ask yourself what would be left of the Winebloods when Thanatos and Brone are done exerting their will upon us. We cannot roll over and submit to their demands. To do so would be to risk losing ourselves.”